Is There A Chance, Still?
by Clear As Myst
Summary: Having died before even lived, Clockwork decides to take in the newly-formed ghost child and raise him as his own. Follow Daniel 'Phantom' as he grows up in the ghost zone and eventually step beyond the borders of home...Full Ghost!Danny and contains OC
1. Prologue

I do not own Danny Phantom, but I do own my OC's.  
He belongs to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios.

* * *

**Prologue**

An auburn-haired woman hummed softly to herself as she busied herself with dishwashing in the kitchen. Every now and then, she glanced out of doorway leading to the living room, where her two-year-old daughter quietly worked on her colouring books. She was a typical picture of a hardworking mother, minus her blue-and-black hooded jumpsuit, goggles around her neck and a spark in her violet eyes that belong only to those with more than exceptional intelligence.

However in this particular day, a different light has taken over her gaze and a secretive smile graced her lips. Her eyes flickered to a little wrapped box on the counter beside her. It was for her husband and she could hardly wait for him to return from his impromptu shopping trip – apparently, they had run out of fudge again.

Without warning, the door flew open with a nice, loud 'THWACK!' against the wall. A great giant of a man clad in a near-painfully bright orange jumpsuit filled the front door and manoeuvred himself into the hallway. In his hand was a grocery bag with some ingredients for dinner and undoubtedly, lots and lots of fudge.

"I'm home!"

His even louder voice was alight with an enthusiasm hardly ever found in an average adult. The girl jumped up at her father's arrival and took a flying leap into his outstretched arms.

"Daddy!"

Wiping her hands dry, the mother stepped out of the kitchen to watch her husband hold their daughter up in the air while making airplane noises. Despite his girth, he was revving with excitable energy. A ready smile, a caring yet endearingly clueless disposition, this was why she fell in love with this man. She greeted him in her own way, a kiss on the lips which he was more than happy to return. The toddler scrunched up her face in disgust at the scene. A giggle or two and colouring books tended to, the petite woman led her husband into the kitchen.

Again with that secretive smile, she promptly put the little present to her confused husband's hands. He raised an eyebrow, unable to recall any special occasion that could account to this. He took off the lid, reached in and pulled out a slender object that confused him even more. It was a pregnancy test, though it was capped, it was obviously used as there was a 'plus' mark in one of the windows. He peered at it closely at all angles, trying to decipher what this 'gift' meant. His wife was aware that he was slower than most people, but she just waited patiently. Finally, his eyes widened in realization and stared at his wife, eyes wide in amazement, whose smile burst into a grin. Tenderly, the man took his wife into his arms and kissed her softly, murmuring how much he loved her. She did the same.

* * *

_Clocks, clocks, clocks...  
Clocks, big and small. Clocks here... there... everywhere._

_ This vast tower, suspended in this green expanse, was composed of clocks, swinging pendulums and massive gears. As a result, tick-tocks filled the air in this mysterious place. However, its residents hardly ever noticed them. In the heart of the tower, two ghosts stood before a massive circular viewing screen. The older – much older – of the two simply watched with a deep, contemplative look at the scene. His companion, a relatively young ghost, sat cross-legged in the air, impassive eyes alternating between the screen and the other specter, who was winding the stopwatch on his sceptre._

"_The pieces are now starting to fall into place," was his only response._

* * *

**What do you think? Too generic? Kinda weird? This is my first fanfic, so reviews and constructive criticisms are very much appreciated! Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 1

Yay reviews! Thank you all reviewers for your take on my story, and for welcoming me to FF! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I own my OC's, but Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios. 'Sides, if I owned him, he wouldn't be as awesome. XD

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

_Five months later..._

". . . and I'll show him how to swing on the swings and I'll give him piggy-back rides whenever he wants and . . ."

Lounging out in the baby blue nursery, the toddler's mother listened to her articulate-than-most daughter go on about what she would do once her baby brother is born while absentmindedly caressing her very swollen belly. It was merely a week ago she got an ultrasound and found that she was going to have a baby boy, and the family got even more excited. Her husband was currently trying to put together the crib, probably daydreaming of the day he will teach his son of their 'family business.' Their little girl actually seemed relieved upon learning that her sibling will be a boy.

"Because he'll only play with his boy-toys, and not _my_ toys!" she had said.

The mother let out a soft laugh at the adorable memory, then let out a surprised gasp. Both of her husband and daughter now paid full attention to her, the former frowning in concern.

"Ah, it's nothing to worry about," she reassured them. "The baby's just kicking, that's all."

Their eyes widened in awe.

"Can I feel your tummy, Mommy?" she eagerly asked for them both.

"Sure. You too, honey."

The toddler laid her ear and the man his hand against her belly. A moment later, the girl whipped her head up in excitement.

"I felt him, Mommy! I felt him kicking!"

"And that's quite some kick, too!" The father chuckled. "He's gonna be one lively boy."

"I'm sure he'll grow up to be a great person someday," the mother said. "Whatever he decides to grow up to be, we will be right behind him every step of the way, because we love him. Right, sweetie?"

"Mmhm!" the girl nodded, then turned to her mother's belly. "You hear that, baby brother? We all love you lots and lots and lots!"

The father ruffled her hair as he let out a hearty laugh. "Couldn't have said better myself, princess."

.. .. .. .. ..

_**It was dark in here, but it was safe and secure. From the first time consciousness realized itself, this was the only world he knew and that regular beating around him was the first music he'd ever heard. Now, new otherworldly sounds have made themselves known to him. It alarmed him at first, but soon found them nearly as familiar as that beat. He did not know where they're coming from nor understand what they meant, but there was something about them that made him happy, a warmth blossoming from within. He did not know the word for this phenomenon, but he had first experienced this ever since he came into being. **_**Love**.

* * *

_Hovering in midair in front of the screen as always, the young ghost's usually blank gaze had taken on a faint glimmer of fascination. She had kept her eye on this particular family for quite a while, charmed by their closeness with each other. The little girl's unconditional declaration of love for her unborn sibling twitched her stiff lips into an alien smile, amused and humbled at the same time. It was such a pity; this relatively was a rarity in the Living World._

_The arrival of a presence broke her out of her reverie and turned her head sleepily to find her companion beside her. His pale and scarred face was as blank as ever, though she detected something off in his scarlet eyes. In all the short time – for a ghost – she had known him, this meant he knew something. Of course he knew_ everything_, but this must be something of importance. Though, she refrained from asking; he would only just say that irritating line of his. This unsettled her and her smile vanished without the slightest trace._

* * *

_Four months later..._

"WAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Unearthly screams echoed throughout the waiting area of the delivery wing. Nurses and doctors went on about in their business, unfazed by the noise since things like these came with the job and have long gotten used to it.

A little redhead girl had her hands clamped over her ears, unsure of whether to be worried or be exasperated by it all. Right next to her was an African-American soon-mother-to-be, a long-time family friend. Looking at the double doors where the screams originated, she was worried for her best girlfriend, but was aware that this was something to be expected. After all, this moment was just like the day this intelligent little angel next to her was coming into this world. She patted her own stomach, wondering what it would be like when her time comes.

A creak of a chair dragged her attention towards her husband on her other side. Knuckles white and eyelids stretched to their limit, he was an image of absolute horror. He thought he would never experience this brand of terror again two years later. He always admired his respective best friend as one would admire a soldier gone to the front of a great battle and survived. He even had the horrid blue-black bruises that prevented the use of his left hand for weeks afterward as proof of it. The clammy-faced man stole a glance at his wife and realized it was a terrible mistake, for he just reminded himself that he would have to go through the same ordeal _very_ soon.

. . . . .

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

The calm, content mother was no more and in her place, was a very flushed banshee with a plan in mind for her husband when this torture ends. The husband in question could only whimper as his wife crushed his left hand. Again. It was a good thing he saved up this time, in case he got more than just bruises.

"How dare you do this to me again! How dare yo-AAAAHHHHH!"

The massive man let out a brief, undignified shriek of his own as she squeezed his hand harder, if that was even possible. The doctor assisting with the delivery tried to calm her for a bit with some encouraging words, only to receive the brunt of her pain-induced wrath.

.. .. .. .. ..

_**He too was upset. His cozy haven contracted violently, as if to push him out. Why? What had he done wrong? He twisted and felt something sinuous encircle him. This something has always been there, so he was only irritated by this thing restricting him. He twisted again and pulled at his arms and legs, trying to get the thing off. An unpleasant feeling began to pool within his being and he had his first taste of worry. **_

_**It – It hurts!**_

_**Worry quickly morphed into panic.**_

.. .. .. .. ..

The woman panted, having screamed 'til her throat was raw. All of a sudden, a strange feeling came over her and her instincts began to scream that something was out of place.

"So – Something isn't right," she said to her husband in a hoarse voice.

"Doctor!" a nurse cried in alarm. "Something's wrong. The baby's in severe distress!"

The doctor's face became grave, "What? Now?" She then frantically murmured to herself, "This is bad. He's too far along for caesarean. . . time's running out."

The doctor then turned to the now frightened parents, "Okay sweetie, we have to do this quickly. Now, take a deep breath and give a nice, strong push. . ."

The mother did just that. Taking in a ragged breath, she pushed with all her might. For the sake of her baby.

.. .. .. .. ..

_**It burned. It burned so much. Pain tore his little body from the inside out. It was dreadful! He never knew he could feel anything like this. He wished for it to stop and thrashed about in desperation, but it was all in vain. His energy was sapped and his struggles grew weaker and weaker. Where the pain started have now become numb, which spread throughout him, overtaking the pain. Although he wasn't hurting anymore, his senses and consciousness were gradually fading and his surroundings grew cold. It was peaceful in a strange way, but he fought it back. Whatever was happening to him, it was taking him away from that warmth and that beating music . . . and those sounds that gave him that wonderful, wonderful feeling. He can't go! He wanted to know . . . where they came from . . . he wanted to know . . . those that loved him . . . **_

.. .. .. .. ..

With a final cry of pain, she pushed until she felt something give away. A weary smile crept onto her haggard face, but it vanished far quicker than it appeared. The doctor's face blanched as she held her baby. There was no noise of movement. There was no cry.

The doctor had smiled too when the baby came, but as she assessed him with a practiced sweep of her eyes, she felt her insides plunge into ice. The limp, little body was of a bluish tinge and entangled with his cord, around his limbs and his neck. _My god, his neck!_ He was getting cold.

Far too slow – or what it felt like to her – she called out to her nurses, to have everything ready to revive the baby. Ignoring the terror-stricken cries of the parents, she hurriedly untangled the baby, clamped and cut his cord, and wrapped him up in a blanket to bring over to the other side of the room, where the equipment was ready. She did all whatever trick and technique she knew and even tried any advice and suggestions the nurses threw at her way, but it has been too long. There was absolutely no chance he would cough back to life. The baby's dead.

The mother no longer screamed out of pain and anger, but out of fear and desperation for her baby. Something terrible has happened and she had no idea what! Her husband, on the hand, was barely held back by the rest of the nurses, demanding what has happened to his son. Finally, after what felt like forever, the doctor walked back to them with a deep blue bundle in her arms. Her face was an emotionless mask, but no one can deny the defeat in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all she ever said.

The redheaded mother stretched out her trembling hands, expectant. The doctor carefully placed the bundle in her hands, turned and signalled for her crew of nurses to leave the family to grieve and to notify the others outside of the burdensome news.

The parents leaned down on the bundle in the mother's arms, who parted the blanket with stiff fingers. He was beautiful. His skin was so clean and fair like a porcelain doll, so precious, yet fragile. A mop of jet-black hair fell delicately above his eyes, which if they were open, they would have thought they were looking at the spring sky. The father tentatively took his son's tiny hand with his massive paw. It was cold.

The woman's shoulders shook violently as she clutched her baby boy close to her shattered heart, head hung over in despair. Weak sobs emanated from her, all of her strength spent on the lost battle. Her husband enveloped them in a hug, tears cascading on his awfully solemn face like waterfalls.

* * *

_The young ghost no longer hovered in air as she usually did, but instead, stood on legs unstable from dread._ It's not fair! _she cried out in her mind. The family had such a bright future ahead of them. The_ boy _had a bright future ahead of him. She knew that there was nothing she could have done, however, she can't help but feel helpless – useless! If there was a chance, she would have taken it immediately, unlike back then. . . Her eyes widened briefly before squeezing them shut and seizing her head. _

_No! I must not think of it! _Forget_ it! she screamed silently to herself, forcing back an onslaught of unwanted memories._

_A gloved hand clapped heavily on her shoulder, nearly keeling her over. She glanced up at the hand's owner, thankful for the distraction that enabled her to rein herself in. Though, one look at his sympathetic eyes made her anger flare for a moment, before she snuffed it out. To blow up on him was irrational and a waste of time. He knew everything, and this tragedy was no exception. His lack of action simply meant that this must come to pass, among other tragedies in history and those yet to come in the future._

_What a morbid way to spend your eternity, she thought to herself, aware of how much of an understatement it was._

"_I have a task for you," her companion's deep voice started her out of her thoughts._

_He removed his hand from her shoulder to hand her a package that he had in the crook of his arm, with which he held his staff. She stared at the thing he just gave her. It was a folded up piece of soft black cloth held together by a white ribbon._ _A ribbon of all things!_ _She sent an incredulous look at the other ghost, who had floated over the viewing screen to switch the image of the torn family with a map, casting a green glow upon the room. With his staff, he pointed to a spot on the map._

"_I need you to go here," he enigmatically said. "Once you get there, well, you'll know what to do."_

_She raised a brow in response, but never made any indication to refuse his command. Due to his important position, he couldn't freely travel anywhere, in exception to dire situations. Besides, it wasn't like she_ can _refuse him. She nodded in affirmation. The younger ghost leapt high into the air, morphing her legs into a faded grey spectral tail and shot out of the Clocktower to her destination._

_The elder watched her fly out of the tower before turning back to his viewing screen, which had switched back to the grieving family._

* * *

**O.o My gawd, I'm so cruel! This is the most terrible death I've ever concocted! I'm sorry, little baby!**

***ahem***

**With that aside, I'd just you to know that I will do updates during weekends, due to school and all. If you notice any typos or weird grammar/mistakes, please kindly point them out to me so I can fix it. If the death scene feels unrealistic, I apologize. Thank you for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 2

I own my OC, but Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios.

* * *

_All over the hospital halls, cries, coos and words of congratulations emanated from the rooms it led to. All, except one. Instead of an exhausted but very joyful mother and a proud father, a catatonic redheaded woman sat on her bed while her African-American best friend attempted to comfort her. Key word, _attempted_. The woman's husband was at home, tucking in their sniffling daughter to bed. Trying to be strong for his family._

* * *

_**In all of his short existence, he never felt anything like this and the strangeness of it all was threatening to overwhelm him. He quivered at the thought of his most recent ordeal. Thank goodness, that was over! Though, the cold remained to the point that it wasn't bothering him anymore. No longer was he huddled in a closed space, but felt only emptiness around him. As much as he stretched himself, he found no purchase. Simply by instinct, he opened his eyes for the first time. Of course, he had no knowledge of the world outside of his mother's womb so he recognized nothing. If he had, he would have realized he was floating in an endless sea of green. Purple doors of various kinds dotted the distance and a menacing hunk of rock loomed above him. Boulders and strange objects surrounded him. Again with his lack of knowledge, these things didn't register as something possibly dangerous. It was the lack of company that frightened him. It wouldn't matter whether he could recognize threats or not, he was helpless and there was no one to protect him. **_

_**There was only one thing he can do.**_

.. .. .. .. ..

The young ghost flew through the Ghost Zone at a steady pace. She held her package securely with one hand, and with the other, she fixed her dark grey cowl over her head. Her eyes narrowed as she neared her destination. Alarmingly, it was right within someone's territory, someone she'd rather not run into. At that note, she slipped into invisibility. She slowed down as well, keeping an eye out for stray traps. Unfortunately for her and anybody else who passed by this area, he never bothered to clean up his old traps. Most usually, the traps were dysfunctional hence, why they were drifting around like trash. However, a few _would_ turn out to be functional, resulting with a mess that when no one would deal with it, she _had_ to clean up. She silently huffed to herself, still irked by that irresponsible ghost.

"_**Wwaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"**_

She froze completely still, stretching out her heightened hearing.

"_**Wwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"**_

_There it is again!_ To her, the noise was absolutely unmistakable. A baby's cry. Her core throbbed so hard it nearly hurt, and she took this as a prompt to dash ahead at full speed. Focused on the cries, she absently noted that she was flying under a forested island, the heart of this territory. There, she had found it . . . amongst the rocks and the traps! She panicked at the sight before her and rocketed towards the baby. The baby only managed a squeal of surprise before he was scooped up into her arms. She switched from invisibility to intangibility, soaring through the debris up to the closest edge of the island.

Upon arrival, she swiveled her head, checking to make sure they were on the clear. Safety assured, she let herself touch down on the grassy ground and fall into her favoured sitting position. She made to hold the baby out a bit in order to take a good look at it when she realized she still clutched her package in her hand. Her lips thinned, unsure of how to react accordingly. She stared at it for another second when a thought came to her mind. _It's soft cloth. Can I wrap the baby up in it? _Shifting her left arm to a position comfortable both for her and the baby, she carefully picked at the knot – which was not tightly done at all – until the ribbon fell off and unfolded the cloth. Her lips thinned again, along with an eye twitch. Apparently, she could, considering it _was_ a baby blanket. Pure black trimmed with white.

_Scheming old coot._

As if trying to recall a long-dormant skill, she placed the baby on the laid-out blanket – briefly noting that it was a boy – and wrapped him, cocooning him securely but not tightly to allow some legroom. She looked over her handiwork. It wasn't quite what she wanted but to the baby, it was just fine, if his happy gurgling was anything to go by. With another quick scan at their surroundings, she finally settled to give the baby a thorough inspection.

The baby stared back at her with the most luminous emerald eyes she had ever seen. Peeking out from the cloth folded over his head, his hair shone purer than snow. His unblemished skin made him seem more alive than any other ghost. She gently stroked his cheek with a finger, which the now giggling baby grabbed with his pudgy hand. She let a faint smile slip into her lips, though it disappeared as soon as it appeared when she discerned the faint glow the baby emitted. His hand was also cool to the touch. The young ghost took on a sad expression at this new revelation. This baby was as much of a ghost as she was. Just formed, too, judging by his faint aura.

His giggles slowed, and then became soft whimpers. Suddenly worried, she picked him up and cradled him, wondering what had upset him. His eyes fluttered and his lips parted wide to yawn. She blinked before slightly deflating from relief. The baby was just tired. Ghosts do need to recharge themselves, or rather, 'sleep' in human terms. However, in her case, a lullaby was out of the question. The ghost reflected for a moment when an idea formed in her mind. She positioned the baby so that his head rested on the center of her chest, directly over her core. A ghost's core, as a power source, did produce a pulse not unlike a heartbeat, albeit slower in frequency. If her theory was correct, he would calm enough to rest as her core-pulse somewhat imitated his mother's heartbeat. His mother...

A frown tugged at her lips as she recalled the devastated mother she had watched just moments before she arrived here. _How are they doing right now? What now of their baby boy? _Their son's death was nothing more than sheer bad luck. Fate's callous moment of sadism. _However_, she glanced down at the infant in her arms, which, as she had predicted, snoozed contentedly, _some are far unluckier than others. _

A whirring noise startled her into alertness.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

A rumbling, yet mechanical voice called out mockingly. The young ghost immediately launched into the air. She turned her head enough to send a glare at the voice's owner, but kept her back at him, keeping the baby out of his sight. Some meters behind her, a black and silver mechanical ghost, hovered with his jet wings. His flaming mohawk, goatee and eyes glowed ectoplasm green. An amused smirk was plastered on his skull-like face. Her frown deepened.

_Skulker._

"My, if it isn't Clockwork's little _shadow_? As far as I know, nothing has happened in my territory that would require his attention. So, I would like to know. Why are you trespassing in my territory?"

His smirk flipped into a cross scowl. The young ghost made her white-grey eyes flash red in provoked warning. 'Shadows' were a species of never-born ghosts usually used as servants. Pets. To call another a 'shadow' was an insult. She did not take well to insults.

With all the commotion, the baby let out a whine, unhappy from being awakened. Skulker heard the noise and let a predatory grin take over. As the young ghost saw this, her eyes flashed red again and bared her fangs.

"What do you have there?" A small ray-cannon popped out of his left wrist, as he said this. He aimed at her. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

A spew of blue energy blasted out. Hastily, she spun out of the way, inadvertently revealing the baby to him. When she realized what she had done, she blanched in horror. Skulker just gaped, unable to process what he was seeing.

"A baby? But ghost babies are so rare, it's almost unheard of! Where did you find him?"

The young ghost showed her fangs in response.

He glowered at her behaviour, "Tch, figures that you won't say."

A dark yet thoughtful expression came over his face and now a devious smirk wormed its way in.

He opened his mouth again, while charging his ray-cannon. "If what I heard was right, some ghost babies are still able to grow and develop. If that is the case, I can raise him and we'll be an unstoppable hunting force. No prey can escape our grasp."

He aimed at them again, his ray-cannon re-modifying itself for a more concentrated and more accurate shot.

"If not, then, it'll be a great addition to my rarity collection. And since you have trespassed my home, then I have every right to blast you into so many little pieces that not even Clockwork can figure out how to put you back together! Now, give it to me!"

A beam of bright blue energy burst out of his ray-cannon. The young ghost secured her hold on the currently terrified child and fell, letting gravity take a hold of them. Skulker missed.

"You despicable wench!" he screamed.

Plunging headfirst into nothing, she turned them both intangible and they passed through the orbiting debris safely as well as speeding up from the lack of resistance. As soon as they were in the clear, she righted herself and turned invisible as well. She shot off into the direction where she believed the Clocktower was.

Skulker searched about for his quarry. Seeing nothing, he reached up to his head, pressing a button that activated a new set of visor goggles he had recently made. Glowing algorithms and diagrams sketched over his goggles, mapping out a vivid purple and an ice blue trails in the fluorescent green background. He leered slyly. His set of visor goggles was a unique device with an ability to track his prey by their ghost core, regardless of whether they turned invisible and/or intangible. Skulker gave chase.

.. .. ..

The young ghost flew at top speed for a while, the rushing air strangely lulling the baby back to sleep. Even she felt safe enough to cast off her invisibility. She soon realized how much of a terrible mistake it was when an energy blast nearly seared her cheek. Profanities stringed throughout her mind as she sharply veered off to the side. She caught sight of an archipelago in the distance and headed straight for it.

The archipelago consisted of islands that carried broken and weathered sections of thick stone walls. It appeared to be a building made out nothing but stone – a castle, perhaps? – that had been demolished to bits. She found an almost intact room and landed in it. She swept her eyes over the stone remains. Most of the ceiling were nothing more than rubble strewn all over the floor and scorched furniture. Whatever was left of the walls were covered with vines and lichen, which glowed soft magenta. A layer of dust coated everything.

She floated over a large wardrobe and phased in. The space within was illuminated by her and the baby's auras. There were some thick, soft garments in the wardrobe, although they were also dusty, the closed, cushioned space felt protected. While ghosts no longer have a need to breathe to survive, the young ghost took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes dropped down to her charge. He was exhausted, but was shaken up even more. In momentary calm of things, the baby took this as a good time to start crying. Her aura briefly brightened in distress and replaced him over her core. He was still upset and his whimpers gained some volume. Her jaw clenched and gently bounced him, even quietly shushing him. Still, his cries became louder.

... . ... . ...

Skulker had tracked their trails and was discreetly flying over them. While there was nothing more but empty air to a passing ghost, to him, he can clearly see their purple and blue silhouettes as if seeing through an infrared camera. Nearly a few miles out, he observed his prey's silhouette lose some tension on her form and eventually materialize into view. He sneered at how she was easily lulled into a false sense of security. It _had_ been a long time since he had the pleasure of hunting her down. Of course, that was before Clockwork decided to take interest with that wretched weakling, for reasons he could never fathom. Oh well, even Clockwork cannot deny that the wench had encroached territory. He could and _will_ make her pay.

He charged his ray-cannon and shot at her head. He muttered a curse under his breath as the blast all but scorched her cowl. With a burst of speed he never seen from her, she sharply turned and soared towards the Islands of Ruin. His electric green eyes narrowed in thought. Just how much had she changed since their last hunt? He was going to enjoy this.

As he reached the islands, he shut off his visor goggles, opting to rely on his skills as a hunter. It was more fun that way. He closed his eyes and toned down his jets as much as possible without upsetting his altitude. There were slight _whooshing_ sounds as the islands laboriously bore down in their orbits. Ghostly vermin have also interjected their own squeaks and chirps. A creak of old wood. A faint crying. Eyes still closed, he directed his arm towards it, ray-cannon fully charged, and fired.

... . ... . ...

The young ghost let out a frustrated sigh as the baby cried and was getting louder. At this rate, Skulker would rat them out.

_**BBOOOMMM!**_

The first thing she comprehended was that the noise ringing throughout her skull was the baby wailing at the top of his lungs. The second was the shockingly cold yet tingling substance pouring from somewhere on her back. The third was the pain.

Her limbs shuddered from her fingers and toes up to her torso and core. Her back arched, invoking only more pain and for the substance to pour faster. Her lips were parted wide as if to scream, but only air came out. The ghost slumped back down onto the gritty, dusty ground, having no other sensation but pain.

She opened her eyes, belatedly noting that she shut them when the explosion hit. Her vision was irritatingly blurry, but she was able to make out the thrashing baby. The amount of skin she was able to make out indicated that some of his blanket had fallen out. He may have bruises, but she saw no green on him, which meant that he had no bleeding wounds. What of internal injuries? There was no way that she can tell.

Painfully but surely, she supported herself with her right arm and soon onto her knees. She reached out with her left, but dropped it with a hiss as it seized from pain. She dragged her eyes to it and saw green rivulets dripping from it. She sat back onto her heels and reached up behind her left shoulder, not without great difficulty. Her fingers wrapped around something lodged there and it felt like a piece of wood. She immediately grasped it and pulled in one swift stroke. The only sound she gave off was a harsh panting. She peered at it. It was a large splinter of wood, similar to the wood the wardrobe was made of - or perhaps it was - , now stained with her ectoplasm.

Over the wailing, she managed to distinguish the whirring of jets and the humming of a charging weapon. She threw up a ghost shield over themselves just before an energy blast hit.

The hunter chuckled. "Aah, you aren't as much of a weakling as before, are you, wretch? Not that you've become that much stronger. Despite your wounds, you still find the strength to produce a ghost shield. Oh, but just how long will that last?"

As much as she _really_ hated to think of it, Skulker was right. Her strength was fading, _fast_. In her condition, she won't even survive without any sort of medical attention, let alone protect a ghost baby from a deranged cybernetic ghost hunter. No matter how she looked at it, there was simply no possibility. The young ghost no longer disliked the ghost, she _despised_ him! She made that very clear to him by completely turning her eyes as red as that of human blood and baring her fangs in a hateful hiss.

"Oh ho! You've gained some spine as well! Too bad, wretch. You just lost yourself a quick destruction."

The impact shattered her shield and threw her back a good few feet, leaving the baby vulnerable. She landed on her leg awkwardly and there was a resounding _snap_! _Great, more pain._ Through her thickening haze, she somehow managed to roll onto her front and haul her battered body over the baby.

Once more, she hissed at the hunter. _Through my stinkin' carcass, you beast!_

He only cackled, immensely entertained by her little display of conviction.

"Such a feisty kill! When my ghost child grows up, I'd be delighted to recount the tale on how I finally acquired your pelt."

It was too much. The haze was eating away at her consciousness and whatever feeling she had left in her body. Her good arm was nothing more than a prop to keep her from falling on top of the baby. Sight had completely abandoned her and her hearing was now failing. Before everything went blank though, she was amazed to find that she could still be confused by what managed to hear.

"W-what . . . you . . .-ing. . here. . . ?" Skulker's warbled voice held an alien note.

". . . should have kno- . . . -etter . . . than t- . . .-arm those . . . -ho serve under me."

* * *

_Time unknown. . ._

_Was it still possible to feel anything after you have disintegrated? If so, was it supposed to feel like a bed? Oh, hold on. . . I _am_ in a bed._

She cracked her eyes open.

_My bed._

She was lying on her side, for which she was thankful. The young ghost saw no need to wake up and upset her now bandaged shoulder by accident. Her mind was quite fuzzy and squinted at nothing, feeling that there was something she had to do. . . . _The baby!_ She bolted off the bed only to drop back down again, shivering and chewing on her lip to keep the pain at bay. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. ._ . She heard a turning of a doorknob, but kept still and continued her mental chant.

"I see you're finally awake," a deep voice addressed her. It had an underlying tone that demanded full attention and she grudgingly gave hers.

Standing next to her bed with his usual wise, grandiose self, Clockwork looked over her with conscientious scarlet eyes and a touch of concern in his frown. Her eyes weren't able to focus fully, but what she saw made her jaw drop.

The hood of his cloak was down, revealing white hair pulled to a ponytail. Or at least, what was left of it. A tiny fist held tight to a handful of his bangs, tugging. Its owner wore a snug black, white-trimmed onesie and was supported comfortably in the crook of Clockwork's well-built arm. At every tug, the almighty Ghost of Time gave the slightest of winces, which was enough to send his tormentor into a bout of high-pitched giggles.

Clockwork, on the other hand, merely chuckled at his aide's impeccable impression of a bowled-over fish out of water. To see such a sight was rather a delectable treat, even for him.

_This is all too much. . . _

She fainted.

The older ghost wasn't perturbed by this, already expecting such a reaction. The baby, however, let loose a hearty laugh at the scene. He stared at the unresponsive ghost for a few more moments before turning his gaze onto his new charge.

"When do you think she'll wake up again, hmm, Daniel?"

His answer was another tug.

* * *

**Finally! I have updated! Thank you all for your reviews and for your patience! I'm really happy to hear that you enjoyed my story so far, even if the last chapter was kinda depressing. I'm really sorry that I didn't update as I said I would, there were many things I needed to take care of. As a warning in advance, I would probably take as long or even longer to put up the next chapters, since exams are just over the horizon and coming in fast. . .**

**Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. If you find anything here that needs improving, please let me know where and how I can improve it.**

**Also, I would like to hear some suggestions of what I should include in the fic for when Danny grows up. Anything at all would be great! (I hope you still kept your bunnies.)**

**Last notes: I'm sorry if my OC comes off as Mary-sue-like, there will be more canon character moments in the future. If it makes you feel any better, I have absolutely NO PLANS for romantic relationships for her. I can't say for the others though. . . . .**

**Sorry for the delay, and thank you for reading! **

* * *

**News!**

**I have made my own Deviantart account. There, I have posted sketches that go along with this story. It's not much, but I'll post more over time. Look out for ht tp:/ /no-clear er- than- myst . de viant art. com /# /d5 13b q8**


	4. PETITION

**Hello Everyone! I'm sorry to say that this isn't a new chapter, but I feel that this is a very important matter that needs your attention, if haven't heard about it yet.**

* * *

The administrators of are as of June 4th going to be taking down Fics that have lemons or have extreme violence. Now I don't know about you but I think thats stupid. There are many wonderful fics that only have one or two lemons in them yet the plot itself is awesome! You can't just take down a 100,000+ word fic just because it has a lemon in a chapter that is only 1000 words long. Now I urge you all to read the petition below, sign it, and repost this to your own fics. Hopefully if we make enough noise everything will return to normal. Thank you.

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

Psudocode_Samurai

Rocketman1728

dracohalo117

VFSNAKE

Agato the Venom Host

Jay Frost

SamCrow

Blood Brandy

Dusk666

Hisea Ori

The Dark Graven

BlackRevenant

Lord Orion Salazar Black

Sakusha Saelbu

Horocrux

socras01

Kumo no Makoto

Biskoff

Korraganitar the NightShadow

NightInk

Lazruth

ragnrock kyuubi

SpiritWriterXXX

Ace6151

FleeingReality

Harufu

Exiled crow

Slifer1988

Dee Laynter

Angeldoctor

Final Black Getsuga

ZamielRaizunto

Fenris187

blood enraged

arashiXnoXkami

Masane Amaha's King

Blueexorist

Nero Angelo Sparda

Uzunaru999

The Next Muse

Yumiko21

Asmileadaykeepmeway

Youwillnotstopme

Firewillburn

917brat

Evil Long Penname Having Individual End

Biisaiyowaq

Danny Phantom Phanatic

Sin-NaMe

Lupsss

Clear As Myst


	5. Chapter 3

I own my OC, but Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios.

* * *

_One week ago. . . _

Clockwork watched her fly out of the tower before turning back to his viewing screen, which had switched back to the grieving family. He finally let a frown that had been fighting off come over his face. No matter how many millennia have passed, there was absolutely no way he would grow indifferent to the sufferings of others. But as the Ghost of Time, he did not show this. Perhaps it was his pride, perhaps it was to assure others that he wasn't easily swayed by emotions – inconceivable to many, but even ghosts _do_ have emotions. Probably a bit of both.

_Enough thinking. It is time to prepare for a new resident_. With that, he floated away from his viewing screen and down through the floor. The Viewing Level was the very top level of the Clocktower and right below would be his own level – better known as his bedroom. He continued downward and arrived to his destination, the Residential Level. He was in this level's half circle-shaped lobby which led to two bedrooms. The door to his right was blue-grey embellished with a deep purple diamond, labelling it as his assistant's. The door on the left-hand side was blank and only a shade lighter than the midnight blue walls, indicating that the room is vacant. _But not for long._ He allowed a discreet smile as he phased through the door.

Due to the tower's cylindrical shape, the room was shaped like a quarter circle but it had ample space. The room was of a deep blue color, bordering on black but not quite, and a starry sky slowly spun on the ceiling. At the left side corner, a black wood dresser and a matching changing table was already set up. On the right side corner, a white-trimmed black bassinet and a violet-blue glider rocker stood ready for their new occupants. Delicate but simple wall lamps gave off soft light to offset the dark but strangely cozy colour scheme.

He swept his scarlet eyes over the room, relishing a feeling of accomplishment. Being an important ghost as old as time itself, he hardly ever dabbled on home decorating. His assistant had a much better sense of style for that, despite her own room's spartan treatment. It was only when he received a certain vision that he started to look into that topic and refurbish this empty, dusty room into a nursery, all without his assistant's knowledge. While most would think it would have been better to let her know of this beforehand, something like this would only make her terribly anxious so he decided it was far better to, as humans would say, drop a bombshell on her. _When she comes back with the child, of course._

It was that moment that a white flash came across his sight, temporarily blinding him. As soon as it passed, mild pain came in rapid pulses at the back of his skull. It was a warning that a vision will come and if pain came with it, it won't be good. With a wave of his staff, a disc of white light materialized in the air. Faint black lines littered the vision mirror, like an old static-ridden television, and flashed briefly as the vision took shape. It was hazy at first but quickly sharpened. He saw his assistant and a crying child hidden in what seemed to be a wardrobe. Green light suddenly filled the mirror and the scene changed in perspective to show a manic Skulker with a smoking ray-cannon. Perspective changed again to show a dazed and very injured ghost girl and a terrified baby dusted in rubble. The vision mirror flickered out of existence, leaving Clockwork to stare into space, uncharacteristically stunned. When he finally processed what he had just seen, his eyes blazed intensely and his face contorted in petrifying rage. Not even the Observants had ever made him this mad, and he absolutely reviled them.

"Skulker! How dare he!"

He held his staff high and slammed it back down to the ground, emitting a resounding _boom_ throughout the tower. This triggered his teleporting ability; glowing black clock hands appeared in front of him and spun him out of the Clocktower.

* * *

It was all so amusing!

Skulker grinned maniacally at the delightful sound of a bone cracking as the wretch was thrown back from his energy blast. After all these years, she was still a pathetic excuse for a ghost, to be so easily broken. At least she made that up with that infuriating attitude of hers. He eyed the wailing baby and smirked in victory.

"Now, you are all mine!"

He didn't even float a foot towards the baby when he found himself facing the wretch again, fangs fully exposed in a hiss and an insult plain in her eyes. She had somehow managed to drag herself over the baby, using her body as a shield. He let out a crazed guffaw, so very much entertained by this little display of desperate conviction.

"Such a feisty kill!" He deactivated his ray-cannon only to pull out a massive axe somewhere from his armour. "When my ghost child grows up, I'd be delighted to recount the tale on how I finally acquired your pelt."

With a deft twirl of his axe, Skulker raised it over his head and swung it down, aiming on the fading ghost's neck.

"Time out."

One second, the blade was merely inches away from slicing the ghost girl's head off. On the next, the ghost hunter found himself stumbling to the ground.

"What?" Skulker immediately realized the axe was no longer in his hands. "Who took my axe?"

"That... would be me."

It had been decades since then, but Skulker would never forget that voice. He slowly drew his eyes upward, despite the growing dread that was threatening to overwhelm him. Surrounded in an intense white aura, the Ghost of Time hovered over him, his axe gripped tightly in his hand. Skulker quickly scuttled back, awfully startled by the fury seething from Clockwork's glare.

Clockwork, now shifted into his elder form, let his glare linger on the hunter for another moment before diverting some of his attention to the axe. The older ghost's aura extended over to the axe until it was encased in white light. Rust began to grow and greedily took over the metal surface. It became redder still, until it rapidly disintegrated, the corrosion having eaten it away into oblivion. The Ghost of Time was now in his child form when there were no more traces left of the weapon.

Skulker gathered up whatever nerve he had left and tried his best to sound unfazed by the other ghost's presence, but soon cursed to himself when the words came out shaky and a tad high-pitched.

"C-Clockwork! Wh-What are doing here?"

There was no reply for a moment, only an inaudible whine as Clockwork changed to his adult form and a _shink_ as his staff as transformed into a scythe.

"You should have known better," dangerous undertones rolled within his deep, steady voice, "than to harm those who serve under me."

He angled his scythe so that the green glow of the Ghost Zone glinted wickedly on its blade and without warning, took a swing. Skulker leapt back into the air in an attempt to dodge, but the blade still managed to slash into his torso. Sparks sputtered wildly from the severed circuitry. Although his body was not of flesh and cannot actually feel the damage, the hunter let out a sharp cry.

Even with his terror, Skulker felt indignation bubble up in him.

"Your _subordinate_ trespassed in my territory! Therefore, I have the right to punish her for that. You, of all ghosts, must know that."

"I am aware of that." Clockwork swung a split-second later, slicing Skulker's left arm clean off. The hunter let out a second cry.

"Then why - ?"

" 'All ghosts have the right to punish those that have trespassed their territories, however, any being or entity acting upon my orders are exempt of such punishment,' " Clockwork recited monotonously. " As a matter of fact, my assistant _was_ indeed acting upon my orders."

The Ghost of Time rested the tip of his scythe on Skulker's chest, who had completely frozen in fright.

"For violating that law, _I_ then have the right to punish you."

The blade's tip sparked with white light, and just like with the axe, rust blossomed from it and took over Skulker's amour in a matter of seconds. The silver and black can no longer be seen though the thick red layer. His mohawk snuffed out and the glow of his eyes died. Clockwork gave the armour a soft tap and a web of cracks ran rampant along the surface. Whatever was left of the armour fell apart and the pieces crumbled into dust.

Soft coughs cut through the dust cloud, which settled to reveal a miniscule frog-like green blob sitting on the remains of his armour.

"No. No!" The blob began to shriek in an irritatingly squeaky voice. "My armour! My new goggles! My – Eeeep!"

Clockwork saved his sensitive ears – and the baby's as well – by picking up the so-called Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter by one of his stumpy legs and holding him up to eye level.

"I would have liked to punish you _further_, however," Clockwork stole a quick glance at the wounded girl and the whimpering baby, "I have better things to do."

A dark smirk spread across his presently childish face as he chucked the panicking blob into the air, transformed his scythe back into his staff and slipped into a batting stance.

_Thwack!_

The shrill screams were unbearable at first, but thankfully faded far – very far – into the distance. In the opposite direction of Skulker's lair.

"Home run," Clockwork simply said, smugly.

With the threat gone, the older ghost hastily made his way to his charges. The ghost girl was still propped over the baby, but the slump of her body made it clear that she was unconscious. Her injury had stopped bleeding, though, judging by the unsightly green stains on the old stone floor, she had lost a lot of ectoplasm. He set his staff down and cautiously carried the girl onto the closest unstained area of the floor, taking care not to upset her broken leg. Ripping a strip off the hem of his cloak, he carefully dressed the wound. He ripped another strip and with a nearby long piece of wood, tied a splint on her right lower leg. He then turned to the baby.

For the first time in his eternal afterlife, he felt... awkward. Sure, he was the Ghost of Time, so he naturally knew everything. However, he only knew what has happened, is happening, will happen in all time streams, _not_ how things are done. Especially not how to calm an upset newborn! But the only person who did know _how_ to do these things was knocked out cold and there was no one else in the immediate vicinity... _She'll definitely never let me live this down._

Tentatively, he slid his hands under the tiny trembling body, making sure to support his neck as he had heard innumerable times when came across some babysitting classes during his time stream watching. He held him up so that the baby was level with his face. Even with the rubble coating the baby's body, his ivory skin was a brilliant contrast against the black blanket. His snow-white hair was wildly tousled from his little tumble. _White hair, just like mine..._ His sight landed on the child's pair of emerald eyes, which were wide and watery in his fright. As he stared longer, he older ghost began to feel a very unpleasant sensation in his chest. Unable to stand the discomfort, he broke eye contact. He then softly patted the rubble off of the blanket and with the clean extra cloth of the blanket, wiped the baby gently. It didn't hurt, but the baby started to fuss from the attention and he worked to finish the job quickly. Fortunately, he found neither bruises nor scratches anywhere.

But the energy blast was quite violent, for his assistant to be so seriously injured. How did the baby come out unscathed? Clockwork thought back to his vision, playing it over slowly in his mind. In an instant, he realized that his assistant had actually taken the brunt of Skulker's attack and unknowingly used herself to cushion the baby in the impact, effectively protecting him.

Satisfied and sure that both of his charges are stable, he picked up his staff with his free hand and kneeled on one knee beside the girl. He knocked his staff on the ground lightly, as to not frighten the baby anymore, and the familiar clock hands appeared before them.

* * *

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

A ghost of a petite young woman hovered before the Clocktower's grand doors. Her skin was like that of fresh grass, not unlike many of the Ghost Zone's inhabitants. She wore a simple blue dress of some Dark Age nobility, and her long blonde hair was held together in a single braid down her back and a blue band circlet. In one hand, she carried a basket which contents were concealed by a cloth and in the other, an apparatus hardly the size of her palm that resembled a Time Medallion.

At a glance, that was exactly what it looked like, a miniature Time Medallion replica. However, to Dorathea, or Dora as most knew her, whenever the object was in her possession, the front face suddenly becomes see-through, like glass, and a gold and black compass needle shows itself. Clockwork regularly moved his tower in random and undisclosed locations in the Ghost Zone to deter 'unwanted' guests. As Dora was already a familiar visitor, the compass was charmed so that the gold end of the needle always pointed to where the Clocktower was. Since it was made only for Dora's use, it was also charmed so that no one else could use it and even if it was in her hand, they could not see the needle. To top it all off, it was made with a safety fail mechanism; it had a direct connection to Clockwork's power, enabling him to 'lock' the compass whenever he wished to and not even Dora can use the compass.

Dora made a small frown when she received no answer. Undeterred, she let herself in. She closed the door behind her and proceeded to the center of the main hall. As with the rest of the entire tower, the walls were composed of massive gears, pendulums and whatever part you would find in a clock, and steady _clicking_ and _tick-tocking _softly reverberated throughout the room. The atmosphere of it all could make quite an oppressive and somewhat overwhelming impression to newcomers, but it was almost as familiar to her as to those who lived here. Beyond appearances, the room was actually rather empty, emphasizing the fact that Clockwork didn't have that many visitors. She eagerly scanned the irregularly-shaped ceiling beams, hoping to spot a piece of gray clothing out of this backdrop of blues, violets and greens to alert her of a certain ghost napping there. But no such luck.

"Hello? It's me, Dora," she called out again. Her voice echoed for a short time before being overtaken by the _tick-tocking_. Again, there was no response.

She raised an eyebrow at this oddity of a moment. By now, she usually would have been greeted either by Clockwork or his assistant, if he was too busy with his duties. It was as if she was the only ghost in this entire tower. She merely scoffed to herself amusedly, for as long as she had known them, she had never found the tower without an occupant. _What if she was out on an errand and Clockwork was too busy to notice I'm here? Or they are both too busy to notice?_

Dora then made it her momentary goal to see if someone was certainly somewhere in the tower far too absorbed in their work to greet her. Not that she would be surprised if either scenario was the case, it has happened before.

Swerving to the staircase on her right, she twisted sharply to face a door hidden in an alcove that would easily miss a normal inspection. She went through and headed down a sparingly lit staircase that led to the tower workshop. There were hardly any gears in sight since this was a basement level; instead the walls were mostly old stone brick. It could have had a dungeon like feel to it, but it wasn't dank like most dungeons and it was well lit by torches and a candle chandelier at the center of the ceiling. The flames that lit the torches and the chandelier were an ethereal blue, most likely Clockwork's handiwork. Dora saw old fashioned cabinets nailed on the curved wall and sturdy wooden tables. Somewhat nostalgic, if you asked her. However, the room was also empty.

She spotted a working table to the side with what appeared to be jeweller's tools and an unfinished Time Medallion neatly put aside. She pulled back the cloth cover on her basket and reached in to fish out a small ransack bag. When she deposited the bag on the work table, the contents ground each other noisily like river rocks. She turned to a wooden door opposite of the arch from which she came from and poked her head in. The door led to a storage level below, but everything was completely dark which meant no one was down there either. Quickly, she zoomed up from the workshop and up the staircase from the main hall.

The second level of the Clocktower was Clockwork's personal library. A very splendid library in Dora's opinion. Gears were still present, but the main focuses of the library were the massive rings of bookshelves that ran from the ground up close to the ceiling. From above, it looked like a simple circular maze with various reading areas in cozy alcoves. Immediately to her left was a sheltered kitchenette. The location was very strange, but for some reason, it didn't seem so out of place. The woman deposited her basket on the counter and began to zip all over the library, phasing in and out of bookshelves and checked each and every reading area, even the ceiling beams. Once again, no one was here. Dora planted her fists on her hips and huffed, clearly not enjoying herself.

"Where is everyone?" she muttered to herself. "I normally wouldn't have to wait this long for someone to appear."

She felt her patience running thin and phased through the library ceiling, no longer wanting to wind through another staircase and waste more time. Right above the library was the Guest Level, aptly named since this was where the guest rooms were found. Dora didn't bother to pause at this level. Hardly anyone find business on this level and, once again, Clockwork rarely ever entertained a guest at all, let alone overnight. As a result, two simple rooms containing just the necessities a ghost would ever need – which were not much – served only to collect pounds of dust and cobwebs.

"One of these days, someone must suggest to Clockwork to have that level remade into something else more useful," Dora muttered to herself again.

Once she reached the Residential Level, she slowed herself down abruptly. Even if she was a regular visitor in this lair, she knew better than to just phase through the next two levels so heedlessly. Those were the most important levels of the tower as they were strictly Clockwork's personal zones. Not even his assistant could pass through those levels without his permission. Unless they were both upstairs, this level was her only chance. The chance, however, did not look so good. Dora had sensed no activity at all during her search and there was absolutely none up here. From the corner of her eye, she peeked at the diamond-embossed door. _Couldn't hurt to check._

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

". . . . . . . . . Nothing."

Dora heavily sighed in disappointment. There was no way she could check if they were upstairs from the outside since none of the levels have windows or anything of the sort.

"Marvellous," she drawled to herself. "I was hoping for a little 'girl get-together' or whatever the humans call it these days. I could stay and wait to see if anyone will come down, but it's always so boring being by myself. There's always home, but I don't yet want to see that _horrid_ scumbag I call a brother –!"

A great crackle of electricity interrupted her and she right away flung herself against the wall. She stared with wide eyes as a glowing clock hand materialized in mid-air and spun until there was only a black blurry circle surrounded in a halo of blue-white lightning. A searing flash of light then blinded her. As she tried to blink the massive white spots from her vision, a disturbing scent reached her nostrils and she heard something akin to whimpering.

"Dorathea? My apologies. However, I greatly require your assistance," a familiar deep voice addressed her.

"Dora, please, sir," she replied out of habit. "Wha–?"

Now that the woman could see properly again, her words left her when she noticed an ectoplasm-coated ghost girl lying on the floor beside Clockwork and gasped in horrified shock.

"Only if you would address me as Clockwork," he calmly countered, also out of habit.

"Great heavens!" Dora exclaimed once she found her voice. She rushed over to kneel beside the girl, quickly inspecting her injuries. "What has happened?"

"Skulker," the older ghost answered coolly, as if that one name was a complete explanation in itself. Frankly, it was. "I would have properly attended to her injuries myself, but I'm afraid I have my hands full at the moment."

"What do you mean, sir?" she turned to him in puzzlement. It was then she realized he was holding a black bundle in his arm. Noting her attention, Clockwork shifted his position so that she can clearly see his new charge.

Dora eyes and mouth were perfect circles when Clockwork turned to reveal a tiny sniffling snowy-haired ghost baby in a black blanket in the crook of his arm.

"A ghost baby?" her utter astonishment momentarily took over the place of concern. "What? Where? When? How?"

"I will tell, in due time. I do believe my assistant requires your medical expertise."

She started in surprise, but then slightly raised an eyebrow.

"Sir, wouldn't it make sense for me to handle the baby, while you tend to her injuries?"

"I am aware of how your past society would usually drop _certain_ domestic tasks to the women. However, in this case, it wouldn't matter since we are about the same level in experience when it comes to these things, which is none. Even more so, another stranger will be far too much for the baby."

Dora just blinked as she fully understood what he meant. She never married before she died and was uncomfortable around young children. In fact, she never even touched a baby before!

"Very well."

Dora slung the ghost girl's uninjured arm over her shoulder and carefully hefted her over her back. Her fragile-looking frame belied her incredible strength. With ease, she opened her assistant's door. The room inside was indeed very spartan, only a twin bed on the side and a bedside dresser. She laid the girl on her bed and determinedly rolled up her sleeves. _Time to get to work!_

_..._

Clockwork hovered leisurely out in the lobby, listening to the noises from his assistant's room. The baby had at last fallen asleep long ago, exhausted from all the stress. The Ghost of Time felt his arm starting to fall asleep and so, he repositioned his hold a little without waking the child. It was awkward at first, but as time passed by, Clockwork kind of felt . . . comfortable.

His face was an expressionless mask, but in the inside, guilt roiled about in him. As the Keeper of Time, he knew all the possibilities that can arise from a single choice and the outcomes of that choice. Simply put, anything is possible. The only difference was the probability of that outcome happening.

His assistant had served him well for the past few decades, therefore the chance of having a rather unfortunate result out of her future missions was very unlikely. True, there was a high risk in making her go into Skulker's territory; ever since he took in the ghost girl, the hunter had nursed a very deep-seated grudge against her. The most probable outcomes that he had foreseen, though, were either she never encountered Skulker at that time and had returned without trouble, or she had managed to escape from the hunter. He never considered about the _much_ less probable situation when Skulker suddenly convinced himself that his next actions wouldn't oppose the law and outright pursue her. As a result, he nearly cost his companion her afterlife.

His grip on his staff tightened. Clockwork hated to be wrong and he hated feeling guilty even more. He wouldn't be surprised if the ghost girl won't look at him the same way again. Whilst Skulker held his grudges out of anger, the girl held hers out of fear. If anything, he rather preferred to be hated than to be feared.

The sound of hands brushing together snapped him out of his thoughts. Dora was smiling in relief, telling him that his assistant will be alright after all.

"Despite how they looked, they weren't too troublesome to fix," the woman said cheerfully. "She'll take a while to wake up. Once she does, though, she'll definitely be grumpy but fit as a fiddle."

She took on a contemplative look.

"I wonder how long it will take Caliga to wake up," she mumbled loud enough for Clockwork to hear.

The name did not register in Clockwork's mind until a moment later. It was quite funny, actually. Despite how long he and his companion have known each other, he never used her name that much, considering she was the only other resident in the entire Clocktower and she was always nearby that there was really no need to call for her presence. She couldn't even say his name anyway. Or even verbally respond at all, for that matter.

"A week."

"Pardon?"

"A week," Clockwork patiently repeated.

Sometime during the exchange, the baby had fluttered his eyes open. His emerald eyes wandered for a bit until they landed on something long and white. Instantly, he grabbed hold and pulled. Hard.

"Ack!"

Dora jumped in fright as the ghost before her yelled and jerked his head so rapidly that his hood fell off, revealing white shoulder-length hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her gaze dropped to the baby still in his arm and found his tiny little fist seizing some of that hair. Instead of being frightened by Clockwork's sudden reaction, the baby laughed instead. A loud, hearty, squealing baby belly laugh.

"Ow! Stop that!"

Dora's hands flew up over her mouth, desperately trying to hold in her giggles.

"Ah! Dorathea, don't you dare laugh!"

How could she, when the almighty Ghost of Time was apparently being tortured by a hopelessly adorable ghost baby?

"So *_snort_* Clockwork, sir *_giggle_* what should we call the tortu–er, baby! *_wheeze_*"

Clockwork glared at her as much as he could through his pain-wrought face, though it only came out as a strange, yet very interesting facial expression, but answered her anyway.

"Daniel. His name is Dani– Aah-Ow! Quit doing that!"

That was it! She couldn't hold it in any longer.

* * *

**FINALLY! *wheeeeeezzzzzzeeeeeeeee* Over a month without a real chapter must be killing you guys! I, however, am quite amazed that despite the large update gap, I'm still getting numerous reviews, favourites, alerts and all that good stuff! **

**I feel so happy TT v TT**

**This is the longest chapter so far and I hope this makes up for the loooong wait. And I apologize for any mistakes that you may have found. It was very, very early in the morning when I posted this. I'm not even gonna say how early!**

**Also, if you have any requests for Clockwork x Danny Father!Son sappy, cheesy moments or anything else then don't be shy and PM me!**

**Otherwise, please review and tell me if I did awesome or puke-terrible. Even just a little emote and/or "update soon." OuO**


End file.
